


Ruin Your Reputation

by arysa13



Series: prompts filled (bellarke) [32]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, F/M, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-23 09:00:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20005699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arysa13/pseuds/arysa13
Summary: Frat boy Bellamy convinces his nerdy pre-med girlfriend Clarke to come to a party by promising her semi-public sex.





	Ruin Your Reputation

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know anything about American colleges, or fraternities or frat parties.

Clarke is already in her pyjamas when Bellamy walks into her room just after seven on Friday night. She’s got her hair pulled back into a tight braid, her thick textbook open in front of her on her desk, accompanied by a notebook of perfectly scribbled notes in tiny handwriting, plus her open laptop with a PowerPoint slide with a lot of sciencey terms Bellamy doesn’t recognise up on the screen.

“I take it that you decided ‘no’ on going to the party tonight,” Bellamy says, walking up behind her and putting his hands on her shoulders and a kiss on the top of her head. Clarke puts her hand over his, but she doesn’t look up from her notes.

“I have to study,” she says.

Bellamy drops his hands and moves to sit on her bed, right next to the desk. He grabs the seat of the desk chair and spins it around to face him. Clarke pouts, unimpressed.

“You’re always studying,” Bellamy says, resting his hands on her thighs. “You’re allowed to have fun. You’re in college.”

“College is for learning.”

“ _And_ for coming to your boyfriend’s frat party and getting wasted.” He rubs her inner thigh with his thumb over her plaid pyjama pants. “You don’t have to get wasted. I just want you to come so I can show you off. Everyone is starting to think my girlfriend is made up.”

Clarke huffs. “No one thinks that.”

“Come on, baby,” Bellamy says. He’s not too proud to resort to begging. “Please. Just one party, and then I’ll never ask you again.”

Clarke shakes her head. “I don’t know any of your friends. They’ll all think I’m a stuck-up nerd like you did at first.”

“Emori will be there. And anyway, they don’t think that,” Bellamy assures her. “I made sure they don’t think that.”

Clarke frowns, troubled. “You don’t—you don’t talk about our sex life with them, do you?” she whispers.

“No, of course not,” he promises. God, she would hate that. She’s got her image: nerdy, virginal, good girl, and she’s sticking with it.

Bellamy was sceptical when her roommate Emori set them up. Emori knows firsthand the kind of things he likes in the bedroom, and Clarke Griffin seemed like a prude on first meeting. But he found himself mesmerised by her on their first date, in awe of her intelligence, laughing at every dumb joke she told. And then she sucked his cock in the back row of the cinema after dinner and he kind of fell in love. Only later did Emori tell him she’d walked in on Clarke watching porn one night and knew she’d be perfect for him.

“I don’t want to go,” Clarke says. “I really have to study. Maybe next time.”

Bellamy sighs. She’s been saying _next time_ for months now. She’s halfway through her freshman year and hasn’t even been to one party yet. Bellamy is pretty sure he was drunk every night during his freshman year. He parties less now that he’s a senior, but he would really like to make some drunken college memories with his girlfriend before he graduates and has to face the real world.

“Okay,” he says. “Can you take a short break though?” he says, trailing his fingers further up her thigh, until he’s stroking her pussy through her pyjamas. Clarke spreads her legs, nodding eagerly, just like he knew she would. She’s always so desperate for it. “Come and sit on my lap,” Bellamy tells her. “Pants off.”

Clarke surges to her feet and sheds her pyjama pants, so she’s just wearing her oversized t-shirt, which barely covers her shaved pussy. Bellamy runs his hands up her thighs and over her ass as she sinks onto his lap, straddling him.

He’s half hard already, and it doesn’t take him long to get all the way there, when she pulls her t-shirt over her head, revealing her luscious tits to him, and removes the tie from her hair, letting her braid come loose. She doesn’t look so much like a nerdy good girl now. Although, it’s a look Bellamy has become rather fond of in the last few months. But it’s the effortless transformation from nerdy good girl to desperate slut that really gets him.

She grinds against his cock, and Bellamy’s hands skirt her waist to play with her tits. She leans down to kissing him messily, her hair falling around their faces.

“You need a good fucking, don’t you, baby?” Bellamy says. “You’ve been working too hard.”

Clarke nods, kissing him again. He lifts her slightly, then flips her over so she’s lying on her back on the bed, her blonde waves splayed out around her head. Her tits bounce as she hits the bed, a sight Bellamy never tires of seeing.

He positions himself between her raised knees, then sucks the soft skin of her inner thigh between his teeth, knowing it will bruise later. He loves marking her, not that anyone else ever sees the marks except for her. But he knows she’ll look at it tomorrow and get wet all over again thinking about him.

Clarke threads her fingers into his hair, tugging gently, so he’ll move his mouth to where she wants it to be. He chuckles, shifting slightly so his breath comes out just above her clit. He can smell the sweet scent of her arousal, already dripping from her cunt, though he’s barely touched her.

He kisses her folds, then dips his tongue between them, and she tightens her grip on his hair. He finds her clit, running his tongue over it, and then around it. She whimpers, bucking her hips against his face. He slips a hand underneath her ass, edging his finger into her asshole as he licks her cunt, and she moans pathetically.

“Bell,” she pants. He can tell she close from the way her pussy quivers around his tongue, and from the way her breath is coming out short and fast. He gives her clit one last flick of his tongue, and then he pulls away, leaving her right on the brink. The distressed whine that escapes from her mouth as he sits up is music to his ears.

“Why are you stopping?” Clarke asks. She’s still trembling, and she looks so confused. Bellamy smiles as he leans down to kiss her, knowing she’ll be able to taste herself on his tongue.

“I have to go to the party,” Bellamy says. “Murphy will be wondering where I am.”

“You’re going to make me wait until the party’s over?”

“Well,” Bellamy tilts his head. “I probably won’t be up to it after the party. You’ll have to wait until tomorrow.”

Clarke huffs. “You’re punishing me for not coming to your stupid party.”

Bellamy shakes his head. “Come to the party,” he whispers. He kisses her, and as he pulls away, “And I’ll make you come at the party.” He hears her breath hitch, sees her squeeze her legs together, and he knows he’s got her. “Wouldn’t you like that?” he asks, running the back of his index finger up and down her stomach. “Want me to fuck you in a secluded corner where anyone could walk by and see us? Ruin your spotless reputation?”

Clarke sinks her teeth into her bottom lip. She nods. “Okay,” she agrees. “I’ll come to the party. But you better make it worth my while.”

Bellamy grins. “So demanding,” he says. “Show me what you’re going to wear. Want you to dress up for me.”

Clarke normally dresses modestly during the day, wearing nothing particularly tight or low cut, and jeans are her go-to, but he knows she owns things she wears just for him. She goes to her closet now, still naked, and starts rifling through it. She pulls out a black dress and shows it to him, and he nods approvingly. She takes a step towards her underwear drawer.

“No,” Bellamy says. “No panties. No bra.”

Clarke swallows, but he knows she knew he was going to say that. She pulls the dress on over her head, and Bellamy gets up so he can do up her zipper. Clarke turns around, smoothing down her dress, waiting for his approval. Bellamy looks her up and down, admiring the way the dress hugs her curves, dips low at her cleavage. It’s not particularly short, but the skirt is flimsy, and Bellamy knows any light breeze or slight spin will give him the opportunity for a glimpse of her ass.

“Gorgeous,” he tells her.

“Let me put some make-up on and then we can go,” Clarke says.

“You don’t need it,” Bellamy tells her. “You’re beautiful enough without it.”

She rolls her eyes. “Now you want to suck up? Just keep quiet for 5 minutes, will you?”

Bellamy smiles, falling back onto her bed. “Yes, ma’am.” 

-

Clarke is obviously nervous as they walk into the party. She’s clinging to his arm, which he can’t say he hates, but it is unlike her to be so affectionate in public. Behind closed doors he can’t keep her off him. Not that he wants to.

“It’s okay,” he tells her quietly. The house is full of people, no one is even paying attention to them. “My friends will love you, I promise.”

She has briefly met some of them before, and she knows Murphy well enough seeing as her roommate is dating him. But she always avoids hanging out with them, and Bellamy hasn’t wanted to push her, but he does really want his friends to get to know her.

He finds Murphy, along with Emori, Miller, and Raven, outside on the back porch, passing a joint back and forth between them, each sporting a red solo cup, though Murphy appears to be drinking directly from a bottle of cheap whiskey.

“Hey, everyone,” he says, interrupting their giggly conversation. “You guys remember Clarke?”

“Sure,” Emori says. “I live with her. Hey, Clarke, glad you could make it.”

“You scrub up nice,” Murphy smirks.

“Raven, Miller,” Bellamy nods to each of them, reminding Clarke of their names. They both give her a wave.

“I remember,” Clarke says. “Hi, everyone.”

Bellamy takes a seat on the empty lounge chair that they’d dragged outside when they got the money for a new lounge suite in the living room. He pulls Clarke into his lap. His cock presses against her ass, and he hopes she can feel it throbbing for her. She’s not the only one he left hanging earlier.

Murphy offers Bellamy the bottle of whiskey, and Emori offers him the joint, but he declines both. Clarke doesn’t like it when he smokes, weed or otherwise, and it’s really not much of a hardship to give it up for her. He knows she doesn’t care if he drinks, but he wants to make sure he’s not too drunk to blow her mind later, and drinking whiskey straight out of the bottle probably isn’t the best way to avoid that.

He manages to keep his hands off her while they’re in front of his friends, for the most part. He keeps one arm wrapped around her waist, and the other toys with the hem of her dress, wanting to pull it up and expose cunt her in front of everyone, but knowing she would kill him if he did. Just a little longer and he’ll pull her away and give her the orgasm she so desperately wants.

It's probably the worst time to try and get her to integrate with his friends, when they’re both keyed up, and all he can think about his getting his hands on her and his cock inside her. He knows she’s thinking the same. Neither of them are following the conversation, but since his friends are all drunk and high anyway, they’re probably not missing much.

He can feel her squirming in his lap, confirming his suspicions that she’s just thinking about being fucked. He lets his hand slide up from her waist to her breast, rubbing his thumb over her nipple until it grows hard. He trails his lips over her ear. “I need to fuck you,” he whispers.

Clarke nods. She’s trembling. Bellamy sits up, signalling Clarke to stand, and he takes her hand as he stands with her. The rest of his friends look up, though they’d previously been paying him no attention.

“Just going to see what’s happening inside,” he explains.

He leads Clarke inside, can feel the excitement radiating off her. He could just take her to his room, it being his frat house and all. There’s every chance someone could walk in on them in there anyway. But he wants somewhere more public, somewhere with more danger.

There’s a nook just off the hallway, with a little alcove that probably once housed a landline phone. It’s gone unused since Roan graduated and took with him his collection of stolen traffic cones and signs.

Bellamy pulls Clarke into it, and has her against the wall, his mouth on hers, in less than a second.

“Here?” Clarke gasps, as his lips latch onto her neck. His back is to the hallway, so he knows she can look over his shoulder and see anyone who walks past, which probably won’t be many, unless everyone decides to migrate outside.

“Yeah, here,” Bellamy says. “That okay?”

“We’re going to get caught,” Clarke whispers. Bellamy responds by putting his hand up her skirt and cupping her mound. Clarke presses down against his hand, whether intentionally or not, he doesn’t know. Her thighs are slick with her arousal. He knows the thought of someone catching them turns her on, the thought of anyone other than him finding out what she’s really like. He teases her with his fingers, and she buries her head into his shoulder.

“Please, I need you,” she whimpers. “You promised.”

“I know, baby,” Bellamy says. “I’m gonna fuck you right here, don’t you worry.” He undoes his pants quickly, and Clarke pulls up her skirt to reveal her bare cunt to him. “We gotta make it quick,” Bellamy says, pressing a kiss to her temple as he slides his hard cock between her legs.

He grabs her by the thigh and brings her leg up to hook around him, while her arms circle around his neck. He angles his cock towards her entrance, and Clarke wriggles impatiently. He pushes into her, and Clarke releases a tiny whine. God, she always feels so good. Like her pussy was made for him, so tight, so wet, so desperate for him always.

He rocks her against the wall, his thrusts quick and hard. Clarke tightens her grip on him, meeting his thrusts with enthusiasm. With each of her breaths comes a tiny squeak, and Bellamy echoes her with grunts of his own. It’s not half obvious what they’re doing, should anyone walk by. And Clarke is completely covered by him, so no one would see anything they shouldn’t. But they know who he is and they know who his girlfriend is, and should someone catch them in the act she’d no longer be known as a prude.

“Bellamy,” Clarke pants. “Please, I’m almost there. I need to come before someone sees.”

“Can’t have anyone knowing you’re secretly a dirty little slut now, can we?” Bellamy says. He fingers find her clit, cutting off any response Clarke might have been able to prepare. Instead she just lets out a wanton moan, and with the help of his fingers on her clit, she comes on his cock, gasping for air, her walls clenching around him, pulling him over the edge with her.

“I’m coming inside you,” he tells her, and Clarke can only nod her approval, still lost in the bliss of her own orgasm. He shudders against her, filling her cunt with his come just like he knows she likes. They’re both breathing hard as he slips out of her, and he has nothing to clean himself up with so he just has to tuck his cock away and deal with it later.

Clarke straightens, letting her dress fall back down to cover herself, squeezing her legs together to keep his come inside her.

“Still hate parties?” Bellamy asks her.

“Yes.”

Bellamy snorts. He grabs her by the hand and tugs her closer so he can kiss her. “I won’t make you come to another one. But thank you for coming to this one.”

“I guess it wasn’t so bad,” Clarke concedes. “But tomorrow you have to help me study to make up for it.”

Bellamy raises an eyebrow. She knows she never gets any study done when he’s around. It’s pretty much code for _fuck me for hours and hours_.

“If you insist,” he says. “You want me to take you home now?”

Clarke shakes her head. “I want to try playing beer pong.”

“ _You_ want to play beer pong? In that dress? With no bra, no panties, all filled up with my come?”

Clarke nods, biting her lip mischievously. “If this is the only college party I ever come to, I have to make it worthwhile.”

“Okay,” Bellamy agrees. “But I can’t promise I can keep my hands off you. I might end up fucking you over the table in front of everyone.”

Clarke’s breath hitches. “I changed my mind,” she says. “Take me to your room, I need you to fuck me again now. Then we can play beer pong.”


End file.
